


Brief Encounter

by Anonymous



Category: Supernatural
Genre: And You Do Not Hurt Sam’s Family, Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, BAMF Castiel (Supernatural), Castiel is Sam’s Family, Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), M/M, Neither Is Cas, Protective Castiel (Supernatural), Protective Sam Winchester, Sam Is Not Over Gadreel, Vengeful Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 06:56:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18544588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: It’s just a hunt.Until an unexpected encounter drags up old, unwanted memories of one of the worst years in his family’s life.Sam thought he knew everything that had gone wrong for them during that time.He hasn’t even scraped the surface.





	Brief Encounter

**Author's Note:**

> The attempted rape is not between Sam and Cas, and is not graphic and mostly happens off screen.
> 
> Sam is still very bitter towards Dean for the events of _that_ year.

The coffee was scalding. Sam took a sip, winced, and set it aside to cool.

Cas’s hand rested on his for a moment, and he felt the cool healing touch of Grace.

“Thanks,” he said, and then turned his laptop so the angel could see. “So, get this. Myrna wasn’t the only person to report hallucinations before she died. The town newspaper ran an editorial on it; they were convinced somebody was dumping toxic waste or something in the water system or whatever, and that was driving people crazy.”

Cas scanned the article. “Wouldn’t the authorities have been aware of this?”

Sam made a _maybe_ gesture with his hand. “Honestly? It’s straight out of a crappy B movie, but corporations have power, and these days? I don’t think anybody in authority would really care. But if the water was contaminated or somebody opened a government satellite, or something, everybody would be affected by now.”

“And we only have a handful of victims. So far.”

“So far.” And Sam wanted it to stay like that; Myrna’s death, and the deaths of the other four people, which had drawn them to Oakville, had been brutal even by what he was used to.

If it was some kind of environmental pollutant causing this, which seemed unlikely, there probably wasn’t a lot they could do.

But if it was something else, something warranting the attention of a hunter and an angel, they would track it and then they would make it stop.

The waitress came out and put down a large salad in front of Sam, and a plate of toast in front of Cas. They’d learned it drew less attention if the angel ate something, and toast was cheap and less for Cas to _angel_ out of his body later.

As the angel nibbled away, Sam picked up a large lettuce leaf, and was about to put it in his mouth when he saw something moving and immediately dumped it on his plate. “Shit!”

“Sam?” Cas was looking at him, worriedly.

Sam pushed the plate away in disgust. There was a fat caterpillar or slug or something wriggling away among the leaves…. No. There were _two_ of them, and he grimaced at how close he’d come to eating what they’d been crawling around on.

He looked up and the waitress was coming over, alarmed.

“Uh, miss, there’s….”

She gasped and quickly scooped up his plate. “I”m so sorry,” she said. “I’ll...I'll get the cook; please, please just wait right there.”

Sam watched her take the plate away. He glanced at Cas, saw the angel was still holding the toast, and carefully took the slice from him and put it back on the plate.

“Just in case,” he said, and pushed the plate to the end of the table. He doubted angels got food poisoning, but he was not letting Cas eat anything in here, either.

The angel shrugged, and went back to studying the information they’d gathered so far on the victims in Oakville.

A big man came out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on an apron that was none too clean. Sam gulped down some queasiness. He’d never developed the same love of diner food as Dean had, a combination of a few bad bouts of stomach flu and the lack of healthy choices putting him off, but being on the road as much as they were left him little option.

That had changed, with more places now offering ‘light’ food, but times like this Sam knew it’d be a few days at least before he ate anything put before him that Dean or, if push came to shove, he or Cas, hadn’t cooked.

“Problem with the salad?” 

Sam nodded, grateful at least that the guy didn’t seem spoiling for an argument. “Yeah. The live ingredients. Look, just don’t charge us for it. I don’t want anything else.”

He couldn’t eat anything else. Even the thought of touching the coffee cup made him feel a little sick.

The cook shrugged, and Sam got the feeling this wasn’t his first complaint.

Then he turned to Cas. “Toast okay, though?”

Sam gaped at him. 

But Cas looked from the plate, and up at the cook, and said, “Yes.”

Sam wasn’t sure what happened then.

The cook lost about five shades of colour, and stepped, no, _staggered_ back. His eyes were locked on Cas like he was staring his future in the face and it wasn’t good.

Maybe, Sam thought, they’d found what was killing people in this town. It wouldn’t be the first time one of them had revealed themselves to Cas just because they weren’t expecting to see an angel.

Under cover of the table, Sam slipped his angel blade out of his belt sheath, and kept it ready, just in case.

But then Cas was glaring back at the guy, and there was something…. Some unspoken communication going on there, and it wasn’t friendly.

The guy backed up some more. “Uh, okay, it’s on the house. I’ll tell the waitress.”

And then he practically ran back into the kitchen, the door swinging wildly back and forth in his wake.

“Uh, Cas…”. Sam glanced at the angel who was still staring after the cook like he could see him through the walls. “Not that I don’t appreciate the support, but let’s not smite the guy over poor hygiene.”

Sam wasn’t expecting Cas to get up, and close over his laptop and tuck it under his arm. Or to take _his_ arm and get him on his feet and steer him to the door.

“Cas?”

The angel stayed silent, guiding Sam gently, but firmly, to his truck, but Sam dug in his heels once they had reached the vehicle.

“Okay, Cas, what’s going on? Do you...do you know that guy?”

Cas opened the truck door, but Sam grabbed hold of it. Crazy; Cas could rip the door _off_ with his bare hands, but Sam was determined they weren’t budging until the angel told him what the hell was going on.

“Castiel.”

Cas looked at him, and some of that razor edged tension started to bleed away. “Sam, I….”. It wasn’t often Cas was lost for words, but he seemed to be now. 

Sam gripped his shoulder, squeezed it reassuringly. “Okay. Look, let’s just get back to the motel room, and you can tell me there.”

Cas nodded, and Sam got in the truck, took his laptop and put it on the back seat.

But before Cas closed the door over, he grabbed Sam’s arm. 

“You don’t go anywhere in this town without me. Not anywhere. Sam, please.”

Sam was stunned by the desperation in Cas’s voice, the open, honest…. It was almost fear, for him, and that made him feel like the temperature in the truck had just dropped sharply.

“Okay,” he said, and then Cas got in and backed the truck around and they were heading back to the motel.

++

Despite his determination to stay as far from other people as possible, after three days of walking, Cas knew he had no choice.

He needed help, and he’d surely put enough distance between him, and the last place the angels knew he’d been, to not bring them down on anyone around him.

Even if he could just get one night to rest, he’d be better able to continue in the morning.

There was a fair sized town coming up; Cas saw the traffic passing him increase in frequency and so he limped carefully across the road and made his way into the streets.

A lot of the people ignored him, but a kind man told him there was a homeless shelter on the other side of town, so Cas made his way there.

He was lucky; they had room, and the woman manning the reception desk told him dinner was at eight, and lights out sharply at nine.

They also had an on duty nurse, and Cas figured the receptionist had seen how he was walking, and he gratefully accepted the offer of help.

The nurse had a very gentle touch, but blisters were blisters, and Cas was both amazed and infuriated that something so _minor_ could cause him so much bother.

“They’re infected,” the nurse told him. “I know it’s hard, but try to keep them clean, and not let anything rub.”

Cas sighed. He would be leaving again in the morning; his dress shoes weren’t built for long periods on foot, but there was little other option.

The nurse seemed to understand. He cleaned out the blisters, put some kind of antibiotic salve on them, and then covered them with a dressing that provided a little padding between them, and Cas’s shoes.

He also gave Cas away some spare dressings, and the tube of salve.

++

Cas slept some, that night, but not as much as he’d have liked. His body seemed almost too tired to let him rest, which seemed ridiculous, but finally he surrendered.

As he lay there, listening to the breathing and odd sleep-borne exclamation of the men around him, the creak as they shifted on the old cots, Cas knew he would need to have a better plan that just walking.

He needed money, and that meant getting a job. And that meant getting ID, and not the FBI badge he still had on him. 

There had to be a way to do all these things, but who exactly would tell him? 

He knew of only two people who he might have asked, and they didn’t want him anymore.

That was still too sharp a pain to deal with, so Cas pushed it down and focused on how exactly he was going to survive.

++

Cas had learned that it was customary for humans to shower each morning, so he took a towel and a bar of soap from one of the staff members, and joined the end of the cue to use the facilities.

He might not have any fresh clothes to change into, but Cas knew he was going to have a live as a human now so he should start getting used to it.

He was a human now.

It took a while for him to reach the showers, and by then virtually everyone else had finished up and moved on, to either find work, or if they had a job around the shelter, to do that, or whatever else they planned to do.

Cas had the shower room to himself, and he lingered a little under the warm water, wincing as the soap ran down his body and nipped at the blisters on his heels, but otherwise enjoying how the heat eased the tension of his sore body.

Maybe…. Maybe some things about being human wouldn’t be so bad?

And then there was a sudden blast of cold air. The shower door was open, and then it was closed, and huge hands were shoving Cas back against the wall, pinning him, and one of those hands fastened itself over his mouth.

++

Sam sat in silence once Cas was done, too stunned to know what to say. 

He couldn’t believe Cas had never told him this…. That he’d been carrying this around with him and never said a word.

“Does…. Does Dean know?”

Cas shook his head. “It upsets him to remember that time. I.. We don’t talk about it.”

No. Of course not. That year hadn’t been one of their best, and Sam would be pushed to find many that had been worse.

But he’d thought he knew everything, that there were no more brutal revelations, and yet there were.

He felt a sudden, burning anger at Dean; it was as if the raging sense of betrayal and hurt at his brother’s actions, at the consequences of those actions, for him, for Cas, for poor entrapped Kevin, hadn’t really been extinguished, just tamped down until something could fan the flames back into life.

Dean didn’t want to remember what happened.

So Cas had never told either of them. What else had their angel endured, what hidden scars was Cas carrying?

And would it be better to try and get Cas to reveal them, or should Sam just leave it alone, let Cas tell them what he wanted, when he was ready?

“Cas…”

“I wasn’t hurt, Sam, not badly. I’m a soldier, too. And he wasn’t ready for that.”

Sam shut his eyes, imagining that fight, brutal and desperate, Cas hanging on to the only thing he had left then. 

He should never have been in that position. 

But his _family_ had cast him out, and even though Sam loved his brother, it was also very hard not to hate Dean just then, for all of what had been done in his, Sam’s, name.

“Cas…. If you ever want to talk about that time…. About anything that happened…”

Cas smiled at him, but it was not a happy smile.

“We should try to see if there’s any truth to what was in the newspaper article,” Cas said. 

Then he was up, and grabbing the keys to his truck, and moving to the door.

Something told Sam this would be the last time, ever, they spoke of what Cas went through during that year, even though he was sure there was much more Cas could tell him.

And probably very little Sam could do about any of it. Except be there for Cas.

Except…

++

Ricky took the next few days off sick, and stayed home. He didn’t answer the door, and he kept the lights off and the blinds shut.

But nobody came near, and he figured if he hadn’t seen that guy from the shelter, or the big dude with him, in that time, he wasn’t likely to again.

They’d just been passing through, that was all, and it was just some piece of shit luck that they ended up in his town, in his diner, and the food was crap enough for Shelly to have to shout him out front to deal with it.

But by now they would both probably have moved on, and he needed that job, so he went back to work the next day, and just stayed back in the kitchen no matter what.

And that was the end of it.

Until nearly two weeks later, when they were closing, and Shelly had gone home, and he was taking out the trash, and then locking up.

He dropped the garbage in the dumpster, let the lid slam shut, and then he realised he was being watched.

There was a sleek black car parked up just outside the diner.

And the tall guy was standing there, leaning against it, watching him.

Something told Ricky he could try to run, but honestly…

What he’d done, tried to do, was finally catching up with him.


End file.
